The night stretched on like a silver-lit dream.
Music swelled through the ballroom, rising from a soft murmur into a warm, lively rhythm that filled the air with motion. One by one, the Sages drifted toward the floor. Iris pulled Seraphaine by the hand; Selyndra joined with a graceful twirl; Agora followed with a shy, observant curiosity. Vaelus smirked and dragged a protesting Morvath into the fray, and though Morvath lost the argument, he found his footing in the dance. Dravien accepted Eiden's hand with quiet dignity, and even Gavran—after a nudge from Agora's tail and a tug from Iris—relented, his stiff reluctance softening into something almost peaceful.
They danced as one—eight divine beings moving in harmony beneath the twin moons' glow. Their steps were mismatched and chaotic, but they were warm. They were real.
Then, the music faded.
The Sages drifted to the center of the ballroom, forming a loose circle. The room fell into a sudden, sharpened silence. Word spread like wildfire through the castle and into the streets: "The Sages are speaking."
Within minutes, the ballroom overflowed. The halls packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and the bridge outside lined with thousands craning to see. Dyuke and the five kings formed a silent line of authority behind them.
Eiden stepped forward.
"To all," he began, his voice resonant and steady, "we have protected you for thousands of years. We have dismantled the enemies that threatened this realm, and now, only two remain."
A ripple of tension electrified the hall.
"Civilar," Eiden said firmly, "and the Demon King."
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of gasps and whispers—fear warring with a desperate, burgeoning hope.
"We are here tonight to celebrate," Eiden continued, his eyes hardening, "but believe us—we will soon eliminate them both and bring an everlasting peace to this world. Of the two, Civilar is the greater enemy, and he will be ended."
The reaction was visceral. A warrior dropped to his knees; a nobleman wept openly. The air was thick with the sound of a people realizing their long nightmare was finally drawing to a close.
"We will bring peace to this world forever," Eiden declared.
The applause that followed shook the very chandeliers. But as it reached its peak, Eiden raised his hand again, and the silence returned instantly.
"And," he said softly, "I would like to announce something else."
Eiden's body began to shimmer. In a fluid ripple of light, seven perfect duplicates stepped out of him, each moving with the same divine grace. The crowd gasped in disbelief as Eiden and his duplicates stepped toward the eight Sages.
"For a long time," their voices echoed in unison, "I have held deep feelings for six individuals who changed my life. And I have grown a profound attachment to two others."
Dravien's breath caught. Morvath's eyes widened. Seraphaine covered her mouth as Selyndra's hands began to tremble. Agora's tails curled in surprise, and Gavran's wings shifted with a faint tremor.
"And now," Eiden said, "I choose the perfect moment."
Simultaneously, all eight Eidens lowered themselves onto one knee.
The ballroom was breathless. The kings straightened, and Dyuke's eyes went wide as Eiden spoke each name with reverence: "Dravien. Morvath. Seraphaine. Vaelus. Selyndra. Iris. Agora. Gavran."
Each duplicate produced a black ring—divine metal infused with Eiden's aura, forged under the stars.
"Will the eight of you be with me forever… and live with me for all of eternity?"
He slid the rings onto their fingers. For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Selyndra was the first to break. Her golden eyes met Eiden's, and the dam burst. "Eiden… yes," she sobbed. "Yes, of course… forever."
"Yes," Dravien whispered, his composure shattering. "I would follow you into eternity."
One by one, the voices joined—Morvath's shadows trembling, Seraphaine's joyous cries, Iris's breathless vow. Agora and Gavran accepted with voices thick with emotion.
The seven duplicates stood, rippled with light, and merged back into the true Eiden.
The moment he was whole again, the eight Sages moved. They didn't think; they simply collided with him. Selyndra buried her face in his shoulder; Iris wrapped her arms around his neck; Morvath and Dravien pressed close as Agora's tails and Gavran's wings enfolded the entire group like a living shield.
And Vaelus—sharp, bold Vaelus—pressed his head into Eiden's chest and gripped his suit with trembling hands. Eiden felt the warmth of raw, unfiltered tears soaking into the fabric. He placed a hand on the back of Vaelus's head, holding him gently.
The ballroom erupted in a fever of cheers and sobs, but the noise was distant. Under the light of the twin moons, Eiden held the eight people he loved. And they held him back.